Acceptance
by Meva
Summary: Lancelot's thoughts and feelings during his final moments. Please read and review.


**Summary:** Lancelot's thoughts and feelings during his final moments

**Pairing:** None

**Rating:** G

**Word Count:** 908

**Feedback:** I appreciate constructive criticism above all else

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**ACCEPTANCE**

The moment Cynric had pulled that trigger and that arrow had hit his chest, Lancelot had known he was a dead man, it was just a matter of time. He could see it in his enemy's eyes and he could feel it in his own body. But no, he would not die before his enemy. He would kill him and be done with him. Cynric would not be allowed to continue on; he would not hurt any more of his brother in arms. This man had threatened the life of Guinevere, the life of Arthur's future Queen; he could not be allowed to live.

Lancelot had come to Guinevere's aid because he had seen the way Arthur looked at her, he knew that Arthur was in love and Lancelot would do ianything/i to protect Arthur. Even if it meant laying down his own life. Despite the pain in his body and the blood gathering in his mouth, Lancelot forced himself to lift up his sword and used every ounce of strength that remained within him to throw that sword towards Cynric.

The Saxon's eyes widened and shock quickly overcame him as the Sarmatian's sword was now embedded in his chest. But Lancelot was not finished, he forced himself forward before he had to drop to his knees, He grunted only briefly as his knees met with the muddy ground. His other hand held onto his other short sword with all the strength left within him. The Saxon dropped forward onto his hands and he just managed to lift his head. The Knight held Cynric's gaze before they both dug their fingers into the ground, not seeming to care about the mud and grit that disappeared under their nails.

Cynric and Lancelot met with one another again, hands grappled and a battle of wills took place. Lancelot was vaguely aware of a warrior like scream echoing around the battlefield but he didn't care to turn his head to find the source. He knew what needed to be done. Eventually, Lancelot began to win the fight. His sword lifted through the air and the tip was placed against the side of Cynric's neck and with little mercy, he thrust it right through the flesh and watched as the life drained from his enemy's eyes.

Just as Cynric fell, Lancelot felt his strength leaving him. His mouth opened a few times before it finally closed just as his body toppled to one side. Dark eyes watched the cloudy skies and a weak smile pulled his lips apart. White teeth were stained with his own blood. He was quite happy to lie there and accept the fate that was quite obviously his to have but then he was being lifted. The pained eyes of Guinevere met his gaze and he could almost feel her torment as she looked down at him. Her skin was marred with blood, her own and others and he could smell the sweat that poured over her skin.

He had once said to her _'But if you represent what heaven is, then take me there' _and he couldn't help but think how fitting that she would be the one to see him to the other side. That her face would be the last that he would ever see. He can hear her pleading with him to stay with her but he didn't have the strength. He had been fighting for so long, this death was a welcomed one. He had chosen this battle and he had chosen to come to her aid, he could die as a free man. He tried to speak these words, tried to tell her that he was fine with this death but he couldn't form the words. All that came out was a groan.

This groan inspired a new look in Guinevere, a look, Lancelot was unfamiliar with. Pure and utter fear. She as a warrior knew he wouldn't make it and she knew that no matter how hard she pulled at him, he would not live through this day. He wanted nothing more than to say something meaningful, something that would stay in her mind and concrete his place in this world but he had nothing. He could only look up at her and see the woman who would be Arthur's Queen and he couldn't help but wish them well. He knew that she would take care of Arthur. There wouldn't have been any place for him. Not in Arthur's new world. Not for a Sarmatian Knight who didn't know anything else but battle.

Lancelot felt arms encircling his form but he could barely feel them. The chill of death has already begun to set in. The rest of the world seemed to fall away leaving only the voices that called to him. The voices of the other Knights who had fallen before him. He knew they were beckoning him forth into a new world, to a new plane of existence where they could be together as it always was until they were lost to the battles that had gone before.

True freedom beckoned to him and he was powerless to resist. Not even Guinevere's words could hold him to this world and not even Arthur's voice crying out in the distance could hold the Knight to this world. His eyes slid shut and his strained breathing ceased.

Lancelot was lost.

He was gone.

Gone forever.


End file.
